


Here is the World

by escritoireazul



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Lost Boys (1987), Mighty Ducks (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14478123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: He can do it with the snap of his fingers -- just like that.





	Here is the World

**Author's Note:**

> Lost Boys section ignores the sequel movies. X-Men section mixes a little bit of Deadpool and a little bit of the original trilogy.

i.  _Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)_

Buffy’s head is thrown back as she laughs, the Tuscan sun bright behind her, turning her sleek, bouncing hair into a gilded halo. Dawn has to squint when she looks at her sister, but she’s laughing, too, dark hair in her face, strands sticking to her chapstick.

And then there is nothing but dust, drifting toward her in the sunlight, and the afterimage of Buffy’s golden hair.

Dawn laughs, because she’s still caught up in the story Buffy was telling, and chokes, and all she can think, in that terrible moment, is – Buffy’s not a vampire.

ii.  _The Lost Boys (1987)_

Star celebrates each birthday as if it’s a milestone, because it is. It is. Thirty-one years ago, they almost had no more birthdays. Thirty-one years ago, all they had was a great devouring thirst and her belief that someone, someday, would find a way to stop David and his boys.

(Max, something inside of her breathes, David’s great secret, and she remembers the look of him, turning away from David’s fallen body.)

Michael is turning forty-nine, and she has filled the house with balloons, bought him a huge, gooey chocolate cake, filled it with fifty candles, one for every year and one for that year they almost lost everything.

They’ve had no kids, because how could they, knowing what was out there? Santa Carla might have been the Murder Capital of the World, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t convince herself there were only five vampires in all the world.

They had no kids, but they had each other, and Star lights the candles just before Michael comes home, one, two, three – forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty.

“Happy birthday,” she’s going to call when he walks into the kitchen, “Happy birthday, my love! Happy birthday happy birthday happy—“

The smoke from the candles stings her eyes. Michael walks into the room, smiling so wide and so bright, and she opens her mouth, but there is something painful in her throat, some strange tugging at her chest.

There is smoke in her eyes.

There is smoke in her eyes.

There is –

iii.  _Mighty Ducks (movies)_

“Coach Gaffney,” Billie shouts from a few rows back. “Coach Gaffney!” She’s laughing, and Julie has to press her lips together tight to keep from smiling. She can’t encourage them shouting across the plane. They’re not the only passengers, they’re spread out too far, and she’s the adult in charge.

That still blows her mind. Part of her feels like that teenager headed to the Junior Goodwill Games, so far from her home, so far from her team. She left them behind to play elite hockey, to play with the best. She left them behind to follow her dreams, and some part of her is young and scared and heartbroken over saying good-bye.

(Some part of her will always be that, and guilty, and more.)

“Billie.” Julie got herself an aisle seat so she can move around easier. She stands, turns back to face the girl. “There’s no need to shout. Think of the other passengers.”

“But coach! I’ve got a great idea.” She holds up a whiteboard, arrows all over it, moving her teammates from one spot to another on the ice. Julie can’t hold back her smile then. She loves Billie’s enthusiasm. Loves all her girls. Loves how far hockey has come. Loves how much more they have than she ever did.

“Okay,” she says and starts down the aisle. “Show me. But no more shouting.”

The plane shudders, drops. She stumbles, the once graceful Cat off balance, catches herself against the back of a seat.

“Sorry,” she turns to tell the man sitting there, but he’s gone and there’s dust in her face, in her mouth, in her throat. The plane drops, and someone screams, and they’re falling out of the sky, dust in the cabin, empty seats and chaos. Oxygen masks fall, but no one reaches for them.

Billie lurches from her seat, grabs Julie’s arm. “Coach,” she chokes out.

The plane is loud, inside and out. She never knew how noisy it would be.

“Oh Billie,” Julie says and touches her hair. Draws her in close. Looks, frantic, for the rest of her girls. “Close your eyes.”

iv.  _X-Men Movieverse_

Kitty shivers. “Something’s wrong,” she says. It’s not like she can see the future or read people’s minds, but she’s been doing this long enough she’s got another sixth sense, some sort of feel for the world. The air gets heavy and tense when things change. When things are about to go very, very wrong.

Piotr looks at her. Sets down the book he’s reading. “What is it, Katya?” he asks, that low rumble she knows so well. All these years in the USA have barely touched his accent. She likes it, still. Always.

“I don’t know.”

He pushes himself out of his chair, custom-built for all that height and weight, and towers over her when he’s standing. He puts his hand on her shoulder. It’s as much for himself as for her, she knows, but for once, his touch doesn’t make her feel better.

Ellie comes barreling down the stairs. No, she’s frantic, cheeks even paler than usual, eyes huge in her face. She’s Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and she’s seen something. Kitty shifts her weight, squares herself. Shadowcat, X-Man, and she stands firm with her teammate and his trainee.

“He’s got it,” Negasonic says. She’s been dreaming of bright colored stones for days, and death, but not how they’re connected. “He’s got –“

She trips and throws her hands out, brings up her power, bright and – she’s gone. Dust lands on the steps. Colossus grips Shadowcat’s shoulder too tight. She turns to him, to say something, to ask something, she doesn’t know, and he stares at her, metal washing over him and falling into pieces.

“Katya,” he says.

Shadowcat turns her face up toward his, and she’s alone.

v.  _Harry Potter (books)_

Luna is on the trail of a Seafish Catsnake. Everyone who looks for it – the handful, because not even all of her fellow naturalists are believers – looks to the sea, but she thinks it left the water long ago.

“ _Seafish_ ,” they remind her in that tone which, if they were younger, they would use to call her Loony. No one has called her that in many years, at least not so she’s heard. “ _Snake_ ,” they add, because there are snakes in the waters they search.

She doesn’t mind their teasing. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was at Hogwarts, and she paid it no attention then, either. Nor does she tell them her thoughts, which are snakes on land and “ _cat_ ,” because if they’re going to emphasise one part of the animal’s name, so she can too.

Rolf searches with her, though he doesn’t believe, not this time. He thinks, too, it will be in the water. But he trusts her, and he will come with her, and she loves that about him more than if he did believe. She can believe enough for the both of them.

“The desert?” he asks once, but that is it. She understands his doubt. The desert is nearly as far from what everyone else expects as possible. But she thinks of the snake, winding sideways, and how fish grew legs and left the sea, and the cat wizards of the sands, and follows.

There is sand in her clothes and dirt under her nails. Her skin is rough from wind and sun. She wears light colors and outrageous hats. There are wrinkles from squinting into bright light and reading in the shadows and growing old. Her knees hurt sometimes when she crawls around and there is silver in her hair.

Rolf looks at her still like she is the strangest and most beautiful creature he has ever seen.

That she is, and she smiles when she kisses him.

She’s on her belly in the sand, holding so still she barely breathes, eyes trained on the play of light and shadow. Somewhere off to her left, Rolf does the same.

Luna is so focused that his groan startles her and only long years of practice hold her body still.

“I feel…” he trails off.

She feels it just the same, too much sun and not enough water even though they know better. Her lips are dry, her throat parched, and her eyes burn. She must have blinked sand into them.

Luna opens her mouth to call him back so they can rest in the shade, drink water, refresh their sunscreen spell.

Her mouth is dry. Her tongue is dust. Her vision fades.

She thinks, in that instant, she finally sees a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

There is sand after, and sun, and in the silence, the sideways winding of a Seafish Catsnake.


End file.
